Where Eagles Have Been
by you cried for the moon
Summary: A glimpse through the eyes of Ponyboy's identical twin brother, Jimmy. Will follow story line.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: I've seen tons of sister fics on this website in my two or three days of being on this site, but I've never seen one with another brother. _

_I'm new here, so please go easy on me. :D Read and review. _

_**XXXXX**_

"Help me with the groceries, would ya?"

Sighing, I set down my guitar and go to help Darry. My shoulders slump. I'm terrible at guitar. "Where's Ponyboy?" I ask, scratching the side of my head and yawning.

"At a movie. Come on, guys," He waves his hands to motion my older brother, Sodapop, and my other closest friends that are basically like my brothers - we're that close, to get up and come help him get the groceries out of the car.

Two-Bit belches. "I don't feel like it."

I feel like groaning. You just don't _not _do what Darry says. Darry's no longer just my brother, but my guardian now. You do what he says. You just do. Ponyboy could tell you all about that. They bump heads more than anyone I know, ever since Mom and Dad died.

Ponyboy's my identical twin. However, I'm about twelve minutes older than him, and Pony's hair is a reddish brown and mine is a darker auburn. That's the only way you could tell us apart, I reckon. I tend to hold the fact that I'm older than him against him. I don't know why Ponyboy and Sodapop got such weird names when me and Darry didn't, but hey, you don't see me over here complaining. Mom always said Dad named Sodapop and Ponyboy and Mom named Darry and me. Dad was… original, you could say.

I definitely like Ponyboy the most, not to pick favorites. But I wouldn't deny it if anyone asked. He's just the one I want to be most like in life - even if he is "younger." He's smarter than me, even if he is spacey and distant a lot of the time. He skipped a grade. I wish I was smart enough to do that.

I think Ponyboy likes Sodapop the most and vice versa. They've always been close; closer than close, even before Mom and Dad died. Sodapop's sixteen, and I think he's the nicest person you'll ever meet, so it's understandable why Pony likes him so much. Sodapop dropped out of school to get a job. Hey, it's not like he liked school any anyhow. I can't make a deep, detailed description like Ponyboy could. I'm not good with words like he is. I think my brain might be a little messed up. Ponyboy would say something detailed, or something full of adjectives (or nouns, I ain't never been good at English) when all I can say is "he's the nicest person you'll ever know.

We pile out the door, and I carelessly throw my arm around Johnny Cade's shoulder. I don't talk to Johnny very much, well, not as much as Ponyboy does, but we're a gang and we stick together. I think he's scared of me anyway. But we have each other's backs. Johnny's home life ain't too good, but hey, whose is?

If there's someone in the gang that I like the least - it's gotta be Steve Randle. He likes me just fine I guess but I'm not too big a fan of his, even if he is Soda's best friend. Steve is cocky; like he always has a satisfied little smirk that just makes me want to drive my fist through a wall. Or in to his face.

Dallas Winston swaggers over, and I smirk a little too widely at his figure. I assumed he was gonna be in the cooler for good this time. Dally is like one of those people your parents warn you about. He's bad - likes to jump people for no reason and is rough and as tough as nails. I really don't talk to him either, but I like him okay. I stick to myself, mostly, and some friends from school and Ponyboy and that's about it. I like Two-Bit too.

Two-Bit Mathews is just a funny guy. He's real funny, and he's always seeming to say stuff at the wrong time, and it's always hilarious. You can't keep his trap shut. He even mouths off to cops some times, and that's something I'm not brave enough to try. Cops scare me enough as it is.

Darry hands me a paper bag and I nearly drop it as I hear a scream coming from down the street. "What was that?" I ask as Sodapop snaps his head up.

"Soda! Jimmy!"

"Shit!" I exclaim and with a jolt of panic I realize the one yelling for my name is none other than my twin, Ponyboy. Darry smacks me on the back of the head and tells me to watch the language. I set down the bag I was holding, and attempt to not roll my eyes at his overprotectiveness.

Everyone runs in a flurry of movement and everything is a blur. One of the Socs - rich kids - kicks Ponyboy in the stomach and I feel a surge of protectiveness. I'm livid. The Socs are rich kids that live on the West side. It ain't our fault we're poor, or at least that's how I see it. I've never been jumped before and Ponyboy hasn't either, before today, of course, but I know they're not fair. They like to wear Madras shirts and drive expensive cars and it makes me so sad to know that I'll never be able to afford a cherry red corvette that you see in the magazines. And I want one so bad.

The Socs see my friends and run, and I just end up standing there like an idiot. While Dally, Two-Bit, Steve and Sodapop are throwing things at their fancy car, Johnny, Darry and me go to Ponyboy.

Darry shakes Ponyboy roughly. He's not intending to be rough, but then again, Darry's always too rough without meaning to be.

Pony's crying, and I really just wish he would just fucking knock it off because that makes me upset when he's upset. He wipes his eyes and I say, "You got cut up a little, huh, Ponyboy?" I eye the blood dripping down his neck. Sodapop comes walking back to us. I assume the rest of the boys went to go track down their car. All I want to do is go with them, but me and Ponyboy are smaller than them, so it's not like I'd be any help anyway. We're just the youngest. We're just kids.

In a low, choked voice, Ponyboy asks, "I did?"

Sodapop licks a handkerchief and puts it against Ponyboy's neck. _Gross, _I think, _there's spit on that. _He says, "You're bleedin' like a stuck pig."

"I am?"

I almost laugh, but I'm too angry to do so. You don't mess with my brothers, or any of the boys, especially Ponyboy. Soda shows Pony the handkerchief and Ponyboy seems mystified by the blood staining it. "Did they pull a blade on you?" I ask.

"Yeah."

Ponyboy is shaking and is as white as a sheet. Sodapop reassures him by putting a hand on his shoulder. It's times like this I'm jealous of Soda. They have a connection - something I really yearn for with my twin. Aren't twins supposed to have, like, telekinesis with each other or something?

Ponyboy wraps his arm around my shoulder and we just walk like that, in peaceful silence. Soda walks next to us. "You're an okay kid, Pony," Ponyboy sniffles and smiles. Sodapop turns to me. "You both are."

I beam in pride. "You're crazy, Soda. Out of your mind." Ponyboy says as he chuckles and we all laugh.

Serious, and totally impassive by our antics, Darry turns to us and says, "You're all nuts." I think he's going to back hand us all. He looks angry.

"It seems to run in the family." Ponyboy and I exchange wide-eyed glances, both of us wondering where Soda got the balls to say that. That's like talking to a hungry man-eating lion. Darry smiles, and I wonder why the hell Darry doesn't mind Sodapop or me that much, but always seems so dang mad at Ponyboy. Not like I'd ever say anything about it to him. I'm too much of a pansy. But I know how much it bugs Pony.

Sodapop and I tend to stay out of it. Soda always says just to let them go at it. To get it out of their systems, but I'm not sure if that's really the right thing to do.

**_XXXXX_**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hello, everyone. I'm back. Thank you for all of the reviews.  
**I DO NOT OWN THE OUTSIDERS.**  
_

"Didya catch 'em?" Ponyboy's asking. He wipes his eyes quickly.

"Nup," Two-Bit explains, then goes on a cussing spree.

Ponyboy starts to talk to Dally. Apparently, he got outta jail for good behavior. But for some reason, I doubt that. Good is something Dally doesn't seem familiar with.

"Got a weed, Dally?" I ask, breathing in to my hands. It's starting to get chilly out. Fall is beginning.

Dally gets three cigarettes out of the pack. He lights them and then hands one to me and Johnny, keeping one for himself. He takes one look at Ponyboy and hands it to him instead. Ponyboy looks like he needs one, the way he's all pale and shaky and everything.

"Wanna go hunt some action or somethin' tomorrow night, Johnny?" Dally asks. "Pony, Jimmy, you wanna come?"

"Sure, I'll go." Pony murmurs.

"Same here," Johnny whispers under his breath. He's a quiet kid.

"Jimmy, what about you?" Pony turns to me and asks. "Nah, I think I'll stay home tonight. Read a little, maybe play some guitar… I don't know." I reply.

"Whatever, man. See y'all later." Dally huffs.

Darry's pissed off; that's something I can tell. I think we all are. I'm just grateful that it wasn't as bad as when Johnny got jumped a while back. He was crying then, and I still can never get the image of him all beaten up out of my head.

Johnny's always been a shy, skittish little kid. He's almost smaller than me and Pony, and he's sixteen - about two years older than us.

Johnny's situation and his terrible home-life are the kinds of things that keep me up at night. His mom's always ignoring him, but when she's not, she's screaming at him. His dad's always hitting him. It ain't fair. Even though I don't talk to Johnny too much, I know he's not deserving of all the cruel treatment he gets. I also think about how it's not fair that we get monthly check-ups from the state, so close to getting put in to a boys' home, when Johnny's the one that needs to be put in foster care. My parents may be dead but at least I have a family that loves me. I don't want to think about what's fair, right now. Nothing's fair.

At the moment, Darry's telling Pony that he should have carried a blade. But that makes no sense to me, because I'm pretty sure that if Ponyboy _did_ bring a blade he would have gotten in trouble for that. And, the Socs would have gone crazy if Pony had done that, I am sure.

"You don't ever think," says Darry. "Not at home or anywhere when it counts."

"Now, come off it, Darry-" I try to interrupt, but Darry's not done. He's far from done.

"Shut it, Jimmy." He turns back to Pony. "You must think at school with all those good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub."

The look on Ponyboy's face is just resigned. You could tell he's used to this kind of thing. Soda and I steal nervous glances at each other. Soda and I are alike in this respect - we both don't like it when they fight, but the difference is Sodapop isn't afraid to stick up for Ponyboy. I am. I reckon that's why Pony likes Soda best. Soda yells back at Darry. He always takes up for Pony. I wish I could do that.

When we get inside, Darry says, "Hey, Pony, do your homework. Jimmy, go carry the rest of the groceries in."

Groaning, I pop my knuckles and get up to do as I'm told.

Late that night, at around 1:30 AM, I turn my light on and finish reading my book. I only have one chapter to go left, so it shouldn't take me too long. I slide on my eye glasses. That's another way you can tell me and Ponyboy apart. I have reading glasses and he doesn't.

I don't like to read as much as Pony does, but I have to read _The Great Gatsby _for school. And… it's actually really good.

"Hey, James."

Shocked, I look up. I was so engrossed in to this story line that I didn't even see or hear Ponyboy walk in. Pony tells me that's why he loves movies so much - he can get lost in it. I personally don't like movies. Everything ends up good, and that's bullshit in it's finest form. Not everything has a 'Happily Ever After.'

"You know I don't like to be called James." I only go by Jimmy, but Pony always insists on calling me James. I think it's just to make me angry.

"Okay, hey, _Jimmy_."

"Better," I mutter, rubbing my face. I do that a lot. Rub my face. "What's up, Pony?" I flop on to the bed.

"Nothin'. You got _The Great Gatsby _done? I gotta turn it in to the library tomorrow. Well, _today_, since it's 1 AM." Ponyboy flops down next to me.

"Yeah, I just finished it. It was real good, actually."

"I thought you'd like it," Pony grins. I take off my glasses and stare at him closely. His eyes are so green; he lies when he tells people they have grey in them. He doesn't _like _people with green eyes. My eyes are greyer, but I wish they were greener. Life is funny like that sometimes. Sometimes it ain't fair. "Did you have a favorite character?"

"Tom or Daisy Buchanan. They were all pretty tuff."

"True. They all were."

"Somethin' botherin' you?" I look over to him. "You don't usually just come in to talk to me."

"Yeah, I do!" he exclaims. "What, a guy can't come in to just have a nice conversation with his twin brother?"

"I know you, Pony," I say. "I can tell."

He grins. "How do you do that, James?" I cringe at the usage of _James_. "You can read me like a book."

"What's up?" I urge on, wanting to stay on topic. He's been trying to change it.

"Well, I can tell you anything right?" Eek, what does that mean?

"Sure thing, brother." I grin to reassure him.

"I already told Soda about this," This is what makes my heart hurt. I shouldn't be jealous of Soda, but Ponyboy went to him first? Before his twin? I shake my head to clear the thought. Sodapop's just as much as Pony's brother as I am. Maybe Pony just ran in to him first, and decided to tell him. What is _it _anyway?

"Told him what?" I don't even know if I want to know.

"It's just… why does Darry gotta be so mean all the time?" he groans. I sigh. "He ain't mean to you or Soda. I just think he doesn't like me. Soda says it's 'cause Darry's gotta lot to worry about. And I understand that, it's just…" He pauses. "I don't know… I'm probably just overreacting."

"No, Pony. You ain't. But it'll all be alright. Darry likes you the same as me and Soda, so nothin' to worry 'bout."

He smiles, but I don't think he's convinced at all whatsoever. "Thanks. 'Night, Jimmy."

"Night, Pony."

_Song of the day: MGMT - Money to Burn. _

_PLEASE REVIEW. THANKS FOR READING. _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Yeah, I've been crappy with updating. Sorry. I will update more frequently now._  
_I DON'T OWN THE OUTSIDERS, OR THE SONG USED BELOW. _

* * *

Ponyboy turns to me quickly, halfway stepping through the door. I watch him with interest. "You sure you don't wanna come with us?" he asks me.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I reply. Without meaning to, I mutter, "Ain't like Johnny wants me there much anyway." But, making sure that Ponyboy didn't hear that, I act quick. I try to fix his hair as a half-assed attempt to distract him.

"Stop it, James," he snaps, pushing my hair away. I hide a smirk, because he's too easy to distract. Thank God he didn't hear me. I don't think he knows Johnny doesn't like me. I ain't too sure about him myself. He's quiet and aloof, and I never cant tell what he's thinking. Pony may be quiet too, but he's open book in my mind.

Ponyboy holds his serious glare for about five seconds, mutters, "You are such a mom sometimes, James," and we both start to crack up. He really hates when I fix his hair. He puts too much grease in it, and though it looks tuff on him, it's just too much. Ponyboy doesn't understand that there's such thing as too much. "So, what are you gonna do tonight?" He plops down on the steps on the front porch.

Idly sitting next to him, I say, "I don't know. Maybe play on my guitar some, do some homework…"

His look shows that he doesn't believe me. "When did you start carin' about homework?"

I don't like school at all. I remember the day Sodapop dropped out - I was so jealous. I wanted to follow right in his footsteps. Still do, actually, but I would never tell nobody that. Ain't like I excel at anything, right? I ain't like Pony. Sometimes it's real difficult having Pony as a brother, since people expect so much of me because of Pony's good grades.

"Oh, who am I kidding? I ain't doin' no homework," I laugh earnestly, grabbing an ashtray from the bottom step and pulling it closer to me. Pony takes this as some sort of cue and we both grab cigarettes and smoke them.

"You really ought to," Ponyboy said thoughtfully, staring dreamy-like at the stars.

I consider this. "Do you enjoy it?" I ask.

"Do I enjoy what?" Ponyboy snorts. "Homework?"

"Yeah," I look at him. "Yeah."

"'Course I don't. I hate school. You know that."

"Well… how are you so good at it then? I don't get it, man," I push the palms of my hands in to my eyes and rub my face.

Pony seems at a loss for words. "I don't know, just gotta try harder… study, or something. That seems to work for me, usually. I have to study real hard."

I think he's lying.

XxX

At around 9, I get my guitar out of my closet. It was a gift from my dad for my twelfth birthday. I used to take lessons, but then when mom and dad died, life became too hectic and we couldn't afford.

I'm not too good without lessons. I know my chords but I'm not some sort of prodigy.

I turn on my AM/FM mini radio and attempt to play along to an Elvis song I've heard millions of times.

I put my guitar away, sighing and giving up. I wonder when Ponyboy will get home. The movie should be getting out soon. I go out to see what's happening. I've been a hermit in my room, barricading myself from any form of social interaction.

Soda's out with Steve and Darry's on the couch, paying bills and watching old re-runs of Bonanza that I've seen a billion times. I can hear Dan Blocker's voice ring throughout the house, getting louder as I walk in to the living room.

"Jeez," Darry says out loud. "I thought this whole time you were Pony and Johnny and Dally."

"Yeah," I say with a soft laugh. "I kinda hoarded myself in there."

"Why didn't you want to go out tonight? It's Friday." He scratches the back of his neck. Looking up from the bills, he lies on the couch. His back pops, and I know he's been carrying too much roofing and working way too hard.

"I don't know," I mutter, "jus' didn't feel like it."

I yawn, putting my hands over my mouth. "Tired?" Darry asks, looking at me sideways.

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm goin' to bed. 'Night, Dar."

"Night," he says, going back to his bills.

I shut my door loudly. Reaching on my desk, I flip on my small AM/FM radio again. A Simon and Garfunkel song plays, its gentle tune lulling me in to sleep. I lie on my bed, and even though I don't really like this kind of music I make no move to change it.

"…_Silence like a cancer grows. Hear my words that I might teach you… Take my arms that I might reach you…"_

I yawn. I lay my head back against the pillow and I'm out.

It's a door closing that wakes me up next. My light is out, meaning Darry or Soda or Ponyboy came in and turned it off.

I walk out in to the hall, feeling disoriented and wondering who is walking in and what day it is. I walk in to the living room.

The sight that greets me is not pretty.

Darry's yelling at Pony, whose hair is messed up, and he's yawning. He tries to slip past me to get to the bathroom but Darry stops him. Slightly nervous, I sit next to Soda, who appears to have just woken up just like me.

It's the smack sound that really gets me awake. Soda and me flip off the couch right away and Ponyboy's falling down. I want to scream. The blood is rushing in my ears, the world is spinning, the…

Pony stands up briefly, looking terrified, and I see the red handprint that he now dawns on his face. He takes a glance at Soda and I, then back at Darry, his eyes filled with tears, and he's out the door.

Darry stares down at his hand in horror, like it's some sort of foreign object he's never seen before.

Before I know what I'm doing, I try to run out the door to follow Ponyboy but it's Sodapop who pulls me back. "Let him cool down. He'll come back soon." My eyes are filling. Mom and Dad never hit us. What is happening? What is happening? What is…?

I turn to Darry. "_You_," I snarl, desperation overcoming me. "You… you mote-magnifying _tyrant_!" I got that line from a Mark Twain book Ponyboy made me read a long time ago. It was the first thing that came to mind.

Darry looks terrible. Years have been suddenly added to his face. I'm too mad at him to feel sympathy. I'm enraged, livid. Soda holds me back, muttering at me that Darry's sorry enough as it is. How is Soda not mad?

Darry takes a deep breath, says, "I don't know where that came from."

I'm bawling now, wanting nothing more than to follow Ponyboy and make him come back here. "Ponyboy was right," I ramble. "You do hate him."

I don't know how much I'll regret saying that the next morning. But one look at Darry's face gives me a glimpse.

I lean against the wall as a desperate attempt to compose myself. Darry just keeps looking at his red hand. I breathe in and out. Soda's eyes are watering, and I know he's trying hard not to cry, too.

Our family was never one to resort to physical violence. I think my mom spanked me one time as a child, for not looking both ways before crossing the street.

I can't help but feel shame, even though I did nothing wrong. I kick a wall hard, but that does nothing for me except give me a throbbing in my toe.

I storm off to bed but I can't sleep. The stinging crack of Darry's hand echoes in my mind, and I wonder where Ponyboy is and when he'll be back.

I just hope it's soon.

* * *

_A/N: As you can tell, the timeline is kind of jumping around. I'm not going in to detail of Hinton's work that we've all read millions of times. _

_THANKS FOR READING AND THE REVIEWS._

Song of the day: Simon & Garfunkel - The Sound of Silence


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Wow, am I upating kind of fast? Yeah, I am!_

I'm going to take the time to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my best friend **GREYHOUNDREDUX. **You're now fourteen. You're gettin' so old, kid.  


_Quite an angsty chapter for you. *bangs head on wall* Angst, angst, angst. _

* * *

I don't leave my room at all for the next two days. I lay in my bed for a while, shuffle around a bit, and clean. Boy, do I clean.

It keeps my mind off of things, and I don't think I can remember a time where my room looked so good.

Darry somehow went to work this morning, which somehow makes me hate him even more. Soda's here, though, since Darry told him to stay here in case there's any news.

Ponyboy hasn't come home since two nights ago. It's not that I'm blaming him any, 'cause I'd probably run out too if something like this happened to me(Hell, I'm considering running out myself), but now there's news about that Soc boy being killed, and I have a bad feeling about things… as much as I don't want to think about it.

I worry. A lot. I don't want Ponyboy to be alone, cold, afraid, hurt. He could get jumped, kidnapped, killed…

Dally says that he's with Johnny. And I sure hope so. We haven't seen him around, and that's who Ponyboy was with before he came home late last night. I hope he's right. At least they'll be there to give each other moral support.

My stomach is churning. I can't eat anything. I'm tired, but I don't sleep. I can't sleep. I stayed up all last night, either talking to the ceiling or crying, praying that wherever Pony is, he's safe and will come back - alive, in one piece.

Soda's in the living room. I can hear the television, but I just know that he's not watching it. I can hear him walking around aimlessly, pacing down the hallway. He never could sit still.

I hear the door open then slam. Curious, I slowly walk in the threshold of the house. It's Two-Bit. He seems to be merrily oblivious to the events that occurred two nights ago, and I find that I'm jealous of him. He never lets things get to him. Although from the dark circles around his eyes, I can tell that he didn't get much sleep last night either.

"Dally got hauled in," Two-Bit explains, digging through the icebox, trying to find some chocolate cake. He won't find any. We've had bigger things on our minds lately than to just make some cake for everyone.

"What?" Soda asks, shocked. I sit down next to him quietly.

"I don't really know. I reckon he knows where Pony and Johnny are, but you know him. Won't say nothing to nobody," he pauses. This comes as a jolt to me. Dallas knows where they are? "I think they're in Texas. I might go down there to go get them."

"Texas?" I ask, yawning. "Where'd you get that from? I ain't got the slightest notion of where they are."

"I just know, Young Grasshopper. I just know," Two-Bit smiles sagely, leaving me to wonder how he can possibly joke in a situation like this. But I smile, because Two-Bit can do that to you.

Soda acts coolly, like he has been since Ponyboy went missing. But I know it's all an act, a façade. Because Soda and Pony's room is close to mine, and I can hear him cry at night. He doesn't know I hear it, and I ain't planning to tell anyone. Because I've had my fair share of being a bawl baby too. "I just wish they'd come back and turn themselves in. But I guess they can't," said Soda.

"I just can't believe Johnny could kill someone, is all," I reply, and my throat seems to close up.

The police came to our house yesterday, but I stayed holed up in my room. I had to come out once though, so they could see what Ponyboy looks like. I guess I was the best thing to look from, being Pony's twin brother and everything. They also had to compare his height and weight to mine. We had to tell him that Ponyboy's hair is browner, though. And that he had a bigger build, since he's a track star and runs all the time. I ain't much of an athlete. I ain't really much of anything.

Two-Bit changes the channel to _The Beverly Hillbillies_, which makes my skin crawl. I pop my knuckles.

I see that the newspaper has arrived, so I go in to the kitchen to devour it hungrily. I need some sort of distraction.

Needing my reading glasses, I glide in to my room and get them out of their case.

My shoulders hunch over the front page of the newspaper, and with a shock in my heart Ponyboy's name pops out at me.

_Juvenile Delinquents… On the Run? _

_By: George Lake_

_Ponyboy Curtis, 14, and Jonathan Cade, 16, were last seen on September 12 after… _

I shudder, not wanting to read on but forcing myself to.

…_Curtis and Cade are believed to have played a part in the murder of Robert Sheldon, Jr., and are… _

I drop the newspaper, and nearly run in to the living room. "Did you see this?" I moan to Soda, tossing him the newspaper aggressively, and putting the palms of my hands in my eyes. I sigh. I cuss quite a bit, too. I'm so tired of everything. I'm done. I give up.

"Yeah," Soda whispers, not looking at me. He sounds done with everything also. "Yeah, I saw it."

I take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. Too much has been happening. Everything's happening so fast. I can scarcely stop to grasp the way things are going, and I think Soda feels it too.

I haven't talked to Darry since _that_ night. I've been deliberately giving him the cold shoulder, even though I can tell Darry's sorry for what he did. I don't care that I'm being selfish. I'm just too angry.

I'm angry with everyone and everything. I'm angry at Two-Bit, who can still laugh and be in times like this. I'm angry at Soda, who can act calm and cool on the outside but can be freaking out on the inside. I'm mad at Darry, who's a mote-magnifying tyrant (which means that he is a dictator who lashes out at you for every minor mistake you make), and George Lake, who wrote an article about my brother and my buddy, calling them juvenile delinquents. I'm pissed off at Steve, who made the mistake to call my brother a bother the day after everything happened, (Soda and Steve have since made up.) and I'm mad at Ponyboy - who's making us all panic and worry over him.

I'm angry at myself.

I hate this house, and the deafening silence that lingers. I hate everything.

XxX

I'm being forced to go to school, which sounds mighty unfair to me.

Pony's still not back yet, but I know Dally knows where he's at.

But that's only slightly reassuring.

At least I know that he's _alive_, not bleeding out in a gutter somewhere.

XxX

My day is uneventful, other than some people staring at me (and some Socs crying and mourning over stupid Bob Sheldon's death) until right before lunch, which we can have outside. A Soc is walking down the sidewalk to the bleachers with his friends, talking about how some greasy scum killed one of his closest friends.

I walk up to them, keeping my cool. "Excuse me, gentlemen," I say, smiling regally. I raise one eyebrow, and I remind myself of Sherlock Holmes for some reason. "May I inquire as to what of which you are speaking?" I sound pretty cool, I think in the back of my mind.

"What?" the light-haired Soc speaks. "What did you say, grease?"

"I was just wondering what you were talkin' about," I mutter, cutting the polite crap.

"Ain't none of your business, greaser."

I pop my knuckles threateningly, adjusting my school bag on my shoulder.

"You should know what happened, stupid," the other Soc sneers. "Some stupid, dirty East side kids killed our best friend. Bob didn't do nothin' to them. I guess all greasers are a little touched in the head."

My hands shake.

He and his friends look at me, seeming to be searching for something. "Take a picture. It'll last longer," I snap, turning around. I try to avoid a fight. "Dumb ass Socs," I murmur, not intending for them to hear it.

I guess they have. "You wanna take this outside, greaser?" The first Soc gets in my face.

My words are braver than I feel. "Yeah, I wanna take this outside, you whi-"

I can't even get what I was going to say out. The Soc's friend, probably sixteen or seventeen, rams his fist in to my eye socket. Winded, I fumble a few steps.

People stop and stare. I hiss in pain, and I can feel blood coming out of my face. From where, I'm not sure. There's a lot of it.

Steve and Two-Bit are there all of a sudden, and Two-Bit holds me back while Steve gets them to go away with his switchblade.

"Jesus Christ," Steve groans. "What were you doin'?"

"Nothing," I snap. "Just leave me alone, Steve."

"Come on, Jimmy," says Two-Bit, guiding me to the men's bathroom. "You're gonna have one hell of a shiner to explain to Darry tonight."

I'm mad, sad, but mostly embarrassed. I wasn't even able to fight back.

"Why did you pull me away from that Soc?"

Steve follows us in to the bathroom. Blood is pouring out of my eye and nose, the Soc somehow managed to hit both spots in one really good right hook. Two-Bit is trying to get the bleeding to stop.

"Kid," Steve explains, "you woulda been killed by that Soc."

It stings mostly because it's true.

* * *

_I don't own The Outsiders - they belong to S.E. Hinton. I only own Jimmy, I think. _

_Song of the day: Wolfmother - Vagabond _

_THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! LEV MOAR PLS. _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! It's appreciated. A lot.  
**I DON'T OWN THE OUTSIDERS. KIND OF (OKAY, REALLY) WISH I DID. **_

_Merry Late Christmas everyone! If you celebrate it, that is. And, umm. I think it's Boxing Day today. So, Happy Boxing Day! _

* * *

"Aw, man," I grumble at the sudden pain in the back of my head. What started off as a dull throbbing earlier has now turned to a pounding. I rub my temples.

"You alright, kid?" Two-Bit asks, sliding off the hood of his car.

Right now, we're sitting in the back of Woolworth's, smoking cigarettes and listening to Bob Dylan. It's lunch time.

"Turn that stupid shit off," Steve snaps bitterly, coming in to my view. "Dylan's terrible."

"He ain't all that bad," I mutter almost inaudibly. I rub my sore face gingerly and with care. Out of the group I have to say I think I have the most widest range of musical taste. I don't mind the Beatles too much but Elvis will always be the king. Even Simon and Garfunkel's been starting to grow on me.

"You wanna skip the rest of the day, Jimmy?"

I exhale deeply and slide on my back on the hood of his rusted truck. I want to. My face looks awful and seems to be growing worse by the second. It's a black and blue mess with dried blood we couldn't get all of. How I could explain my appearance to my teachers is beyond me. I would have to say I was in a fight, but that would land me straight to the principal's office for sure. And I can't afford to be in trouble right now, what with everything that's been happening lately.

I nod adamantly.

Steve disappears briefly inside the Woolworth's and Two-Bit and I sit in silence. "You're lookin' a little worse for wear, there, kiddo," he says.

"Don't remind me," I say aggressively. I turn away from him.

Steve sidles back over to us. He plops down on the curb with force, clearly agitated. "Take this, Jimmy," he says while popping his knuckles. He drags a bag full of ice over with him. He then gets the bag of ice and throws it hard at Two-Bit, making us both snort with laughter.

"Thanks," I put my face in my hands, my elbows on my knees. As Two-Bit hands me the bag, I place it gently on my bruised and bloodied face to a spot that won't hurt it too bad.

"Don't mention it. And 'sides, ain't like it'll do much now. It's probably already swelled to the limit."

"You're so kind."

Two-Bit stares down at his wrist, as though checking the time. "Lunch is ending," he says. "We gonna blow this joint?"

"Let's go," Steve says impatiently. His stubbornness is almost palpable, tangible.

I don't want to think about how Darry will have my hide if I skip school. Why should I obey him?

XxX

"Can you get me some aspirin, Two-Bit?" I ask, attempting to sound sad and pathetic. I don't even have to try that hard. I already do.

"Oh, come on," Steve says. Two-Bit grins a wide grin and swings his legs over Darry's recliner. "You got two legs that ain't broken. Get 'em yourself."

I groan loudly, rubbing my hands over my eye.

I throw off my reading glasses and trudge in to the kitchen, dragging my feet miserably. I flip open the cabinet over the oven and peruse the bottles of pills we have carefully. My eyes are so bad I have to squint to see labels on each of them.

Giving up, I go in to my room and grab my glasses.

It dawns on me that Steve was talking to me this whole time, and I only catch the tail end of his sentence. "…and don't swallow ten aspirins, you ain't as thick as Pony, Jimmy. I think you got more common sense to realize that could kill ya."

I pick up the aspirin bottle and give it a rattle. I grab a glass of water and swallow down three aspirin. Maybe I ain't as thick as Ponyboy.

XxX

"Jimmy!" Darry exclaims as he walks through the door. He sees my face. It sticks out. Taken aback, he quickly takes off his tool belt and runs over as fast as he can to me.

"Darry!" I say in the same tone of voice he just used, mocking him. I hear Steve groan at my choice to defy Superman.

"James Daniel Curtis!" he says, and I see the tendon popping in his neck. I struck a nerve; he's obviously not in a good mood today. "What did you do?"

"What did _I_ do?" I jump off the couch. "What did _I _do?"

Steve and Two-Bit slide away to the front porch. I see Dally come walking up the door, and I hear Two-Bit say, "You might wanna steer clear of this place. The big one's yelling."

"When is he not yelling?" Dally asks, getting a Kool out of his pocket.

I smile at his answer, because it's true. "Yeah!" Darry screeches. It brings my attention back to him. "Jimmy, you can't be doin' stuff like this! What if the state came and saw you like this?"

I wince. That's an unfair card to play and he knows it. "Shit, Dar! I didn't do nothin'! Why don't you just listen to what I have to say? That's why Ponyboy ran away! You never listen to us!"

Darry blanches suddenly, stepping back away from me. "What. Happened," he says. It's not phrased as a question. Just a grunt. I can tell he wants to scold me for cussing but he refrains himself.

"It was the Socs, Darry," I moan desperately. "They were talkin' about Ponyboy and Johnny and us greasers and I -"

"What did the say?" he cuts me off.

"They were calling us scum. They said Pony and Johnny killed Sheldon for no reason. I couldn't let them say stuff about my buddies."

Darry grabs my shoulders. "Control yourself, okay? You're mighty lucky no one at school saw you like this. And you're lucky no teachers busted you for fighting. That's the last thing we need right now."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

Darry's had enough. "Now, you listen to me, Jimmy," he says in between deep breaths. "Just because Pony's gone doesn't mean you have the right to be a brat."

I breathe through the hurt. Things have been too hard lately. "But he's gone, Dar," I'm sputtering nonsense. My eyes threaten to water, but I control myself. "He ain't never comin' back."

"Two weeks," Darry stares coldly at me. "You're grounded for two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"Do you want to make it three?"

He's in parent-mode now. Sometimes I miss the way my brother used to be.

I shake my head no.

"You aren't to leave the house except to go to school."

I groan. "Darry, don't you think that's a little -"

"No. Go to bed," he says, looking at the wall clock. It says 8:30.

Not wanting to argue that it's way too early to go to bed, I shuffle in to my room. The guys walk in and I hear Two-Bit say, "That was bad."

"I don't know," Steve says. "He and Ponyboy get in to it worse sometimes."

I slam my sore face against my pillow.

From the squeaking hinges and the door slamming, I can tell that Sodapop is home. Darry's deep baritone rumbles loudly from inside the living room. "Rub my back, will ya, little buddy?"

Darry's mad at all of his brothers but Soda.

"Yeah," Sodapop's slightly higher voice echoes.

"Don't put me to sleep."

He will.

XxX

I wake up at around 2 AM, hearing Steve and Sodapop talking in hushed whispers in the kitchen.

"It wasn't good, Sodapop," Steve says.

Rubbing my eyes, I quietly slip out of my room to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Kid was actin' like a brat and Muscles didn't like it. If I was Darry I'd have personally kicked his ass the way he was actin'."

Honestly I don't think I was acting that bad but I must have been.

"What happened to his face?" Soda asks, concern seeping through his voice. "I went in to his room to check on him when he was asleep and he looks like he was put through the ringer."

Tired of hearing this, I go out and say, "You guys done talkin' about me yet?"

Soda jumps. "Oh, golly, Jimmy," He takes a deep breath. "You scared me."

I sit down beside him at the kitchen table, Steve sitting across from us. "Sorry."

"What happened to your face?" he asks after a pause.

"Fight."

"With who?"

"Some stupid Socs," I reply, answering in as short of answers possible.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, yawning. "It's really no big deal. Just think it's unfair that I'm grounded for two weeks."

My golden haired brother smiles at me. "Maybe I can get him to lighten up a little."

Steve snorts. "Don't bother," I say. "Ain't nothin' gonna happen." I yawn again.

"You sure you're okay?" Soda glances from me to Steve.

I smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I yawn for a third time and then Sodapop says, "Why don't you go to bed, Jimmy? It's late."

My headache is back, so I don't protest.

* * *

_A/N: Please review! I'm begging you. I LIVE off of reviews. Okay, that's a lie. But I do enjoy them! _

_Song of the day: Bob Dylan - The Times They are A-Changin' _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! I am sorry that I haven't updated in a while, but I hope you're happy with this chapter! It's sort of long, compared to my other chapters, at least._

* * *

Ever since my argument with Darry I've been a mess. I think the mess started brewing within me ever since Ponyboy left, and it's just now getting to me.

I didn't sleep after Sodapop told me to go to bed. No, I just stayed up worrying and crying, but hey, what else is new? I'm sounding like a broken record by now.

At school, none of my teachers ask questions about my disheveled appearance and my broken-looking face, which is surprising. But they didn't see the fight happen at school, so they probably don't care enough.

I leave English class in a haste, almost forgetting my books along the way. All day I've felt like crying, and my eyes have been watering randomly, and even when I least expect it.

I miss him. I miss them both, actually. It's weird to not have them around here. Everything's been different.

I hear Pony's name in the hallways constantly, and I want to scream on the top of my lungs until my voice goes away and I go hoarse, because he's _not_ a murderer.

I trip over someone's leg and fly forward, putting my hands out to catch myself. Books and papers zoom out of my grasp and I nearly land on my face.

A greaser picks me up roughly from the ground, hauling me up by my armpits. "Jesus. First time in the hallway, kid?"

"I tripped," I'm not in the mood for this today.

He looks at me intently, studying me. I squirm, uncomfortable. "What happened to your face?" he asks frankly.

"I got in to a fight. Why're you mindin' anyway?" I roll my eyes. I sure am in a bad mood today.

"Don't get wise, kid. Jesus Christ. Just a Goddamn question. Makin' conversation, ya dig?" He smiles goodnaturedly. I wonder how anyone can ever smile in a time like this.

Almost feeling bad, I falter. My tough façade crumbles, because he's just being nice. I soften my stance.

"Ain't you that kid that went missing?" He rubs the stubble along his jaw line. "Ya know, killed the kid?"

"No," I reply moodily. I turn away from his gaze and slam my fist in to the locker. I rest my head up against it. "And he wasn't the one who killed that kid."

"Well, you sure do look like him. More beat up, but you could be twins, you look so much alike," he rambles, leaning against the adjacent locker. My face is so swollen I can barely see out of my right eye.

The next class is starting soon, and I really should be leaving. "No shit," I spit, annoyed. I run a hair through my greaseless hair (I forgot to put hair oil on this morning. I guess I was just too preoccupied). "We _are_ twins."

"Oh…" he laughs. "No wonder y'all look so much alike." He chuckles again._ Yeah, no wonder. _

"What's so funny 'bout that?"

"Nothin'," the grease replies coolly.

I turn and leave.

XxX

4 days. That's how long he's been gone.

XxX

Darry's doing something with work and Soda and I are by ourselves. We sit in silence, but it's comfortable. Not awkward.

But we're skirting around the thing that's really on our minds.

Finally Soda says, "I gotta go to Buck's."

"Why?" I ask, rubbing my face. I turn from my comfortable position on the couch to face him.

"I just do."

I pop my fingers, frustrated that he's not telling me. I'm always the last to know things.

"Whatever," I say angrily. "Don't tell me then."

"Darry told me not to leave you in the house by yourself… but you're also not supposed to leave."

I groan loudly. "Jesus," I whisper under my breath. A little louder I say, "He really said that?"

"I know," Sodapop looks at me knowingly. He shrugs. "Seems a little crazy to me too. You're fourteen, not five. But whatever. I ain't the guardian, so you're going to have to come with me."

Now even more flustered and mad at Darry (if that's even possible) I put my face in my hands. I feel like ripping my hair out.

"You can't tell Darry, though," he adds as an afterthought. "Savvy?"

I don't even know if I want to go to Buck's, I've been there a couple of times and it's kind of a rough hangout. Buck also weirds me out sometimes… like the way you can get him to do almost everything you want him to do. He succumbs to peer pressure too easy. He gives me the creeps.

I nod at him halfheartedly.

Sodapop grabs a white, thin envelope off the kitchen table hurriedly. He makes a stupid attempt to try and hide it. But I've already seen it.

"What's that?" I ask. Curiosity is getting the better of me.

"A letter."

"For who?" I ask. He's trying to steer my off topic by answering in as short of answers as possible.

"Dallas."

That's all he says as we walk out to the truck.

XxX

"Stay in here," says Soda. He has a serious edge to his voice that I'm not used to.

"Why?" I whine back. I want to walk in there with him, mostly to see what he's doing.

"Just do it. Come on, Jimmy," he pleads.

"Fine," I snap irritably. I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

"Thanks!" Soda grins wolfishly at me. "You're the best, Jim!"

He slams the door as I let out a groan. Jim is almost worse than James.

XxX

When I said I would stay in the car I expected Soda to walk in there and then out.

But he's been in there for over fifteen minutes, and it's starting to get uncomfortable for me to be still sitting.

I decide to just go out walking around the place to stretch my legs a bit and then I'll get back in. Soda won't even know anything happened.

I climb out of the car and rub my face. It's a little chillier outside than I realized. It was balmier when we first left. The sky is darker. Not a star in sight.

I walk around Buck's a few times, expecting Soda to be walking out soon.

_What is he doing?_ I wonder as I discover that he's still not outside yet. I don't want to go inside and I don't want to go out to the car so I sit on the cracked and chipped concrete stairs. Music is blaring loudly from inside and the wind is blowing so hard I have goosebumps.

A beautiful, and I mean_ beautiful_, red head comes walking up the stairs. I stare at her, because she is one of the most gorgeous things I have ever seen in my life. I try to keep my mouth from dropping.

She passes me, but not before stealing a glance at me.

I light a cigarette to warm my hands and body, and then the red head girl comes back over to me. She studies my face, and I just wish people would stop doing that.

"Are you Jimmy Curtis?" she asks, sitting next to me.

My mouth flaps open uselessly like a fish's as I stutter, "Uh… uh… y-yeah…" She is too pretty. And how does she know my name? Is she an angel? Am I in Heaven?

"I'm Cherry Valance," She smiles, and her green eyes illuminate her features. I recognize that name…_ How do I know who she is?_

"Hi," I say. "How do you know my name?" I am surprised at how steady my voice is.

As I look at her better, she seems totally out of place here. She looks Socy, and her eyes are all shifty like she's nervous. I don't blame her. Buck's is a rough place, filled with JD's and hoods. Probably not something she's used to, ya know?

"You're Ponyboy's brother. I met him and Two-Bit at the movies. He told me a lot about you."

"Hopefully good things?" I laugh, nervous and shuddery. I hope he hasn't said bad things about me, that would crush me.

"Oh, of course," she says with a chuckle. And I suddenly don't feel so scared to talk to her, but I am intimidated by her good looks. She sure is a looker.

"What are you doin' here?" I ask. I hope I don't sound too rude, because that's not what I'm trying to sound like.

"I got some information on the Socs," she whispers, looking around us to make sure no one is eavesdropping. She leans close to me. So close, I can almost taste her pink lipgloss.

I can't help but stare at her. She's prettier than Marilyn Monroe, and that's saying something. "What do you mean?" I have absolutely no idea what she's talking about.

She doesn't seem to notice me looking at her. "They're planning to have an all-out rumble. I don't like it one bit. They're just still mad over… over Bob's death…" She swallows hard, and then I get it. Realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I have to keep myself from gasping.

"Oh… oh, you're.. you were Bob's…" I don't say anymore, because I can't force myself to say anything.

She nods and gulps again, and I hope desperately that she's not going to cry. Comforting people is not my forte.

"I think it's just a skin rumble, ya know? That's what Randy said."

I don't know who Randy is, but I just nod my head frantically like an idiot. "Why are you helping us?" I ask real thoughtful. I'm not being disdainful. "Ya know, Soc helpin' a greaser?"

"It's the right thing to do. But they don't know I'm spyin' for y'all."

"Oh," I say, upset by that. "Well, thanks."

"I'm surprised you didn't know about me helping you guys out."

"They never tell me anything," I reply sadly. "I'm always the last to know things. My brothers.. they... they treat me like a kid."

"Funny," Cherry says, sounding just as mournful. "That's what Pony was saying to me."

Her eyes are slightly tearful as she looks at me, but that makes her eyes shine. She's so gorgeous, I just want to kiss her right here. But I don't, because that would freak her out.

After a short silence she says, "I gotta go talk to Dallas. He in there?" She shakes a little bit. I would be nervous too.

"Should be."

Sodapop walks out, bypassing Cherry. "Hey, Cherry," he says.

"Hi, Soda. Bye, Jimmy," She gives me one last smile, and I stop and stare at the spot where she was just standing.

"Hello?" Sodapop is waving a hand in front of my face. "Earth to Jimmy?"

I snap out of my daze. "Sorry, just I…"

"I know, I know," he says suspiciously. "She's a looker, ain't she?"

I nod mutely, my eyes wide.

"They're planning a rumble," I say, out of the blue. It's mostly to get him off topic. "The Socs are. And since when has Cherry been our spy?"

"A couple days ago. And are they usin' blades or chains or anything of the sort?"

"Nah," I reply lazily. I fling the car door open carelessly. "Cherry said it was just skin."

"Good deal."

I vow that I will ask Cherry out. One day, I will.

* * *

_Oooh, someone's got a crush on Cherry. Who doesn't? Diane Lane sure was pretty. (I am a boy, by the way.) _

_Song of the Day: Green Day - Jesus of Suburbia _

_Please review!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey, everyone! What's up? I was just informed that there is an Outsiders TV show. It just completely ruined my view on the Outsiders. I don't think I can ever watch it again. Why, God, why? Oh, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favorited/alerted! Thanks!_

**_I don't own the Outsiders._**

* * *

I finger my pockets for a pack of cigarettes. I need the nicotine, and the comfort it always brings me. The comforting warmth it always provides for me.

I slip in to the car next to Two-Bit. He glances over at me from the driver's side. "You okay, Jimmy?"

"No."

And he doesn't ask any questions.

I go to school that morning, even though I consider skipping all day. Throughout classes, I can't help but wonder if Pony's ever going to come back. Because I'm starting to lose hope. I'm never going to see him again.

During my History class, I impatiently count down the seconds until study hall.

At 2:30 we have study hall. It's the last period of the day, and I mostly have been sleeping in it lately. Ain't like I sleep at my house at nighttime.

Though I've been trying not to, I keep thinking of him, what I never did: I didn't say a goodbye to him. I didn't say I love him. I wasn't always kind to him. I wasn't-

"Mr. Curtis," Mrs. Norris pipes up, her voice tiny and nasally. "Your test."

An F. I got an F.

And while I'm used to not having as good of grades as Pony, I usually am a C student.

Darry's gonna kill me. I rub my not-as-swollen face and crack my knuckles, trying to seem impassive.

"Shit…" I whisper in to my hand. The girl takes a gander at my failed test and looks at me sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," she says as she sets her hand on mine. "Everything will be okay."

What's up with everyone's reassurance? No one gave a damn about me before Bob Sheldon died. And if it weren't for my brother being gone, no one would have anything nice to say to me. I'm a greaser, and what I usually get in the hallways are stares and glares, but now I've been getting stares twice as bad and - get this - sympathy. I don't want nobody's sympathy.

Because it's not sincere. People just want to talk to me to hear the latest bullshit that's been happening in my life.

Why did Pony have to be so selfish? I know Darry hit him and that might have been reasonable to run out, but why couldn't he have thought of his brothers first? Did he even think about how this would affect us? It ain't fair, that's for sure. Maybe Darry's right. Ponyboy does need to use his head more often.

When it's time to go to study hall, I run down the hallways as fast as Ponyboy would at a track meet.

I snuggle against my stack of books and doze off…

Someone's throwing something at me. "Wha-?" I mumble, rubbing the drool off my face.

A greaser kid stares at me. He threw an eraser at my face. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty." He points to the P.A. system, and I just catch the end of our principal's speech:

"James Curtis, to the office, you're leaving…"

My teacher looks at me sharply. "Well, go on, go!"

I blink a couple times to wake myself up and then I realize what's going on. "Oh," I say stupidly. "Oh." In a haste I gather all my books. I go back to my locker and grab all my homework.

What's going on? I ask myself. I don't remember Darry telling me that I was going to get out of school early today. I nearly gasp to myself in the empty hallway. What if it's an emergency? Or has something to do with Ponyboy?

Darry is talking to the principal when I approach the office. Darry laughs, but I can see worry behind his eyes. I know my brother too well; he is hiding something.

"Darry?" I ask quietly with a shuddery, nervous laugh.

"We gotta go, Jimmy."

"O-okay…" I turn to my principal. "Uh, bye, I guess."

My principal chuckles heartily. "Goodbye, Jimmy. You take care now, Darrell."

"What are you doing here?" I ask as soon as I hop in to the passenger seat of our old truck. "Is something wrong? Is-"

"We have to go pick up Sodapop," he replies.

"You know, it's really fun when we avoid each other's questions, Darrell. I have to say, you're quite good at it."

Darry ignores me and rolls his eyes. He's fuming, and I can't help but smirk in satisfaction. Lately my main goal has been to piss Darry off. But I'm just as mad at him as he is to me.

I cross my arms, annoyed that he won't talk to me.

He's driving like a madman, and it's so exhilarating, but scary. Darry's not one to drive fast. He's usually composed and calm; cool. And crazy Darry isn't something I'm used to. That only worries me more.

We pull up to the DX and Darry runs out quicker than I ever seen him. "Soda!" I hear him shouting.

I just wait in the car in agony, worrying.

Eventually Sodapop comes out, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. He has an anxious face, but he's smiling.

"What?" I snap. I'm just tired of being left in the dark.

"Ponyboy's been found," Darry says, grinning wide. And all of a sudden I'm not mad at him anymore.

"Oh, glory," I say, and I feel tears springing to my eyes. Soda looks like he's going to cry too. He hugs me from my spot in the front seat, and I move to the back.

We drive as quickly as we possibly can. "Darry?" I ask quietly. "Where-where are we going?"

"The hospital," Darry replies sternly. "He's in the hospital."

"What?" Sodapop and I shout at the same time.

"Is he hurt?"

"What about Johnny?"

"Where were they?"

"When did you find out about this?"

"What happened?"

"Hush up," Darry shuts us up. "I'll explain everything to you."

"Spit it out!" I say impatiently.

He throws a look my way. "They were in Windrixville in a church."

"Windrixville?" Soda asks. "That place kinda out in the country? How'd they get there?"

"If you'd be quiet for once in your life, you would listen as I explain it to you," He goes on, "Dally gave them a way to get there. He knew the place where they were. A church on Jay Mountain."

"Dally? I knew Dally knew something. I ought to kill him!"

"Sodapop!" I yell. "Let the man speak!"

"Well, Dally went to visit them today, and the church caught on fire while they were gone."

"The church caught on fire!? Oh, glory! Are they okay?" Soda leans against the back of his chest and clutches his chest.

Darry grabs the steering wheel tightly with both of his hands and ignores Sodapop. "There were some kids in the church when Dally took them somewhere. I guess they set the church on fire. I don't really know how that happened. Guess I'll have to ask when we get there. Pony and Johnny and Dally got there at the lick of time. I don't know too much about their conditions."

And for once we are all speechless. We can't think of anything to say to that. Soda doesn't even interrupt.

"God," Darry says, tearing up. "We're so lucky. We're so Goddamn lucky."

I've never seen Darry cry, and that just makes me want to cry more. He didn't even cry at our mom and dad's funeral.

We are lucky. So, so lucky. We could have lost him just like our parents.

I put my hand against the foggy glass car window and brace myself for what's going to come.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!_

_Song of the day: Led Zeppelin - D'yer Mak'er_


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